


Oh, My Heart

by Symmet



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mage Lavellan - Freeform, because what is solas without angst?, with a little angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 14:11:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5668837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Symmet/pseuds/Symmet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lavellan comes to ask Solas a question of spells and sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Before the romance officially starts so Solas is, naturally, overwhelmed with crippling angst. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> also I made a cover
> 
> # 
> 
> # 

His brush strokes are careful - smooth, but _deft_ \- languid, but planned.

Soft footsteps in the rotunda behind him, and he smiles before he can stop himself.

He puts the brush down too quickly, turns to face her too eagerly.

Chastises himself even as he does. Fails to stop himself none the less.

But those footsteps are familiar ones, heard so many times he wonders that he would no doubt wake from sleeping should she near him just by that sound alone.

She stands, face marked but open, eyes piercing but soft. She moves with purpose, but smiles gently when their gazes meet.

He places his hands behind his back, stands a little straighter.

She has come seeking counsel, then.

He has come to expect her questions with an almost shameful delight.

Usually her observations and questions are new and insightful, interesting to discuss or explain.

So he is surprised when she says softly, "Solas, do you know any spells to make someone sleep?"

Yes, he does. Old and thankfully forgotten. One dangerously used in ancient times, especially by those now called somniari. But surely she didn't intend to use it...

The Mage-Templar war had been violent enough, he thinks.

"If you'll forgive me asking why?" He says carefully, failing to keep a hint of wariness from his countenance, he suspects, "Have you asked Dorian?"

Surely if Vivienne had known it - unlikely in the extreme to be taught in Circles - she would have tried to use it in battle. Dorian must have mentioned it, then. Tevinter _would_ remember potent slumber spells best left to the sands of time as opposed to something actually useful.

"You don't know one? Bother. Why? Do you think he knows any then?" She said brightly, forgetting his first question.

He hedges. The spell is powerful - dangerous. Best left alone to die peacefully and without abuse.

And yet.

He cannot fathom the woman before him attempting to use it with ill intent.

"No, I doubt it. I do... know of one. But I would know why you need it first."

She tilts her head in consideration, completely unaware of his hesitation. Her blank expression, so unguarded and even a little confounded, warms something tender in him. _For such a brilliant person_ , he thinks fondly, _it is somehow not a surprise that my identity has eluded her._

"Well I've been having trouble sleeping, and I don't want to bother Adan with making me draughts better used for the wounded." She says apologetically.

He blinks.

He almost laughs then. At his wariness. At his hesitation. Worries - for what? He should have known her better. But still he must clarify.

"You intend to use it on yourself?" He says, unable to keep the slight edge of bafflement from creeping in.

Now she blinks at him.

"Oh!" She palms her face, frowning, "You're _right_. It would make our encounters a lot less violent. I should have thought of that." She slumps, disappointed with herself.

He laughs then, "No, I am thankful. That use for the spell is exactly the kind that I would prefer to avoid."

She regards him in confusion, "You _prefer_ fighting people to death?"

He bites down a smile at her tone. Not incredulous, just clarifying. As if their topic is no more exciting than the weather.

"Cast over many people, it becomes infinitely more dangerous. Usually it would be used in the heat of battle, to kill an opponent or cause them to be impaled upon their own or their comrades weapons. It had not occurred to me you did not mean to use it in an offensive manner."

She blushed in embarrassment, scratching behind one of her ears as she averts her gaze, "I guess not."

He smiled, "It has never occurred to me to use it in that way. How short-sighted. It should prove interesting to teach, then."

"What. Now?" She says, tensing and then calculated, as if she is trying to remember her schedule.

"I am not busy. It would be better to test the effects before you retire lest they prove ineffective. Dinner will be soon, and it would probably be unwise to attempt unfamiliar spellwork on oneself when they have just eaten, no?"

A grin spreds over her face, eyes gleaming.

"Don't tell Josie." She whispers delightedly, the faintest and shortest warmth at his shoulder for only long enough to realize she had placed her hand there. Then she winks conspiratorially at him and the gentle touch retracts.

He gestures toward the stairs that lead to her chambers, and they begin to walk. She doesn't pause.

"Why would it be interesting?" She says to herself.

"Because the danger usually present to the caster is over-exerting their will on the subject and falling unconscious for it. The sleep it not technically permanent, but a forced unconsciousness inflicted from the other mage's will."

"So would I be able to cast it on myself?" She wondered.

"A good question." He says cheerfully, "In truth I have no idea."

"What happens if you cast it on a person already sleeping?" She says.

He could not fight the the smile, even if he had reason to. She is so clever. A thousand year old spell, and he never thought to wonder on those complexities.

"I hypothesize they would be unaffected, but it should be fascinating to find out."

-

The spell doesn't work when self-cast, it seems.

She huffs in frustration, and he smiles.

"Not surprising," he reminds her gently, "You can hardly expect to force your will upon yourself."

"No," she sighs, "I suppose not."

Her defeat makes him smile wider, entranced by the endearing slump of her shoulders.

"Now attempt to cast it on me." He says in a voice that sounds as if he has just unveiled the second part of the lesson.

She looks up in surprise, then her eyebrows draw in worry.

He smiles calmly to show his encouragement. then he reinforces his mental barrier.

He chuckles when her tendril of mana tentatively tests his barrier before flickering out.

" _Da'len._ " he chides, "You could not put a bug to sleep like that."

She sighs, frowning, "I don't... It feels too much like I'm trying to attack you."

Warm affection surges in his heart. She is so dear a creature. There might yet be a divine power if of all the people to possibly attend the conclave, she alone survived with the mark.

"You will not succeed in your attempt. I am fully prepared for it, and am guarding myself accordingly. The purpose of the exercise is for you to exhaust yourself into sleep from attempting."

She doesn't stop frowning, but she does swat at him when he snorts at her hesitation.

At least it helps focus her drive to draw on her mana and attempt to batter his mind into submission.

Her attacks are calculated, though, testing. Solas would worry she really is planning to learn it for a less innocuous use, but he knows she is just going about learning the spell the way she would any other new one.

When she pauses to rethink her strategy, he reminds her "You must _sustain_ it, lethalin." She makes a little noise of surprise and he adds, "You are not supposed to actually try to figure out how to get past my barriers." He tapped down on a smile when she makes a noise of embarrassment. It was perhaps payment in and of itself to see her so flustered, though that might seem a little cruel on his part, he admonishes. Still, causing her to blush in surprise when she realizes she had been going about it all wrong was a sweet experience, catching the little nuances of her demeanor, the various expressions that graced her face as she tested her mana.

He keeps his expression from too much mirth, knowing she would think him teasing instead of enchanted.

-

She closes her eyes and lets her expression clear as she draws on her mana.

Wow that had been stupid. What had she been thinking?

He had been worried about it being used offensively, so, _naturally_ , she'd just tried to hurl it at him like a good old fire attack.

Fine work, Lavellan. Real paragon of your kind. _If only the keeper could see her prodigy first now_ , she thinks, trying not to blush and failing that, trying not to blush harder when she remembers Solas had been holding back a smile. She steadfastly refuses to open her eyes and peek. Mostly because she knows with a terrible certainty that he's still trying not to smile.

Well, at least he's not disappointed with her.

Instead of hurling her mana at the shield as she had before, like stars from the heavens, she imagines it as a steady, unhurried wave, rising up to press at his barrier. For a moment, that goes as planned.

Except the water flows under, through the gaps, and she hears a soft intake of breath in surprise and a clatter as a staff hits the carpet.

She feels a sag in her energy and a tug on her mind as it connects.

She blinks open her eyes to see a wavering Solas. With a soft yelp, she rushes to catch him in her arms even though they were sitting on her bed and would have been fine.

His face is soft and drawn in the light. Smooth, unworried or worn. She wonders if he is dreaming right now.

Or locked in his own consciousness.

The thought makes her shiver, and she gently lays him down with herself.

Her mind is starting to ache from the exertion, weariness creeping up on her, making her eyelashes heavy and her fingers numb.

She hums softly, face so close to his so that their foreheads are nearly touching. She doesn't have the energy to change that - she's fighting a losing battle.

One arm is still under him, the other draped over his side. Her eyes droop closed.

-

When Solas blinks his eyes open, his breath shoots through him in a shocked gasp, as if he'd been sluggishly swimming through water and then someone still felt the need to dump a bucket of ice over his head.

For a moment, he is sure Sera has done something, but as the feeling swiftly recedes, he is left with the very obvious realization that he is face to face with a sleeping Lavellan.

It worked, then. A lazy smile spreads over his features as the initial panic dissipates. Clever girl. She got under his barriers.

Her face, soft and beautiful, is so overwhelmingly close. His eyes trace her lashes, the curve of her cheeks, the trace of the vallaslin as he adjusts. He becomes aware of the small heat pressed under his side, the warmth brushing his other arm. Then he realizes they are _her_ arms.

"Falling - catch him! Oh, that was what the bed is for. Soft face, he looks so peaceful. Hadn't meant for that to happen."

Cole is standing, watching. Fidgeting. He has seen her do the same.

"Fiddling, fumbling, flourishing, beautiful. You're looking at me but you're not thinking of me." Cole sounds more curious than hurt.

He glances at her face.

Aches for one moment, to pretend he wakes up to her like this every day.

"You could." Cole says.

The moment is over.

He carefully extracts himself, sitting up and then twisting slightly to regard her.

So small, so delicate, with a thousand years old power coursing in one hand, caught up in his own foolish machinations. He loves her too much to put her through another.

"She would love you back too." Cole says sadly, "I wish I could show you how she sees. It's so much simpler. Everything you see twists and bends and turns other places to lead astray or away. She has steps and a door at the top. She will wait for you to open it."

"Oh, my heart." He murmurs sadly, looking at her soft, marked face.

"She calls you that too, then remembers you are deciding, or she thinks you are. Vhenan, in the back of her mind, always a whisper. She has already walked though so many doors at the tops of so many staircases, and this is just the last. Neither of you realize she has a key. You should tell her."

Cole sounds, for a moment, like Wisdom does. "No." He says faintly, because they are wrong for once. Not in this.

There could be no dispute.

He cannot do this. Cannot risk it. That path can only lead to ruin - to anguish.

"At lath ma, even when you do not say it, always runs on and on." Cole says quietly and is gone.

The silence is soft and cups around them. As if they are separate from the rest of the world.

He allows himself a moment of weakness to brush a strand of hair from her face.

Her eyes flicker open, blinking blearily.

He pauses, then retracts the offending hand. She looks around in confusion, but then she catches sight of him, and when she recognizes him, a smile spills over her face.

 _No._ he tells himself, _you can't._

He smiles back.


End file.
